Let Down Your Hair
by gabthebomb
Summary: Post-movie musings. Elinor-centric.


…

For several days after what comes to be known as 'The Bear Situation', the Castle DunBroch experiences various states of chaos while the infrastructure is rebuilt and furnished. Queen Elinor and her husband reach an unspoken agreement in which he will handle the royal affairs alone for a little while, allowing her the time to reconcile with their daughter.

About a week later, order is nearly restored, and the queen will return to her duties tomorrow. Today, she lingers in her room before the morning meal, taking the time to comb her hair while considering how to spend her last day off.

As she carefully pulls the brush through her silky strands, she scrutinizes her reflection with close attention. Elinor can't help but wonder when those tiny lines formed around her eyes, or when her gray streak grew so obvious. She knows that the magical ordeal added a few hairs, and yet…she feels so young—this cannot possibly be her face in the mirror; this woman who has born four kin and carries the weight of a kingdom still. Regardless, she would choose no other life, if given the chance. (And she was, certainly, when offered the path of a wild animal; the opportunity to be free of responsibility, but also to be without love.)

Once finished, Elinor straightens herself though she is in the presence of no other. She has reached the point in her routine where she would normally twist her weighty locks into twin braids, but she fingers the golden hair cords with hesitation.

It would be so easy to leave her hair loose and flowing, just one more time. Just for today. Elinor understands, now, that it is important to (quite literally) let your hair down once in a while.

She chooses to fold the well-used threads back up, and shuts them away in their drawer. With a small sigh, she arranges her tresses in the simple half-up style that she has worn these past few days, for it is foolish to try and accomplish anything with hair in her face.

She glances wistfully at the spot on her bureau where she keeps her crown during sleep; it has not yet been reclaimed from the forest boulder on which it lies, and she cannot help but miss it. The queen knows, of course, that it is not the crown alone that makes one a ruler, but the diadem is a cherished heirloom and is not to be ignored. It may be foolish, but she simply feels incomplete without it, and will feel a private relief when it is found (preferably by her daughter, rather than one of her husband's men on a hunt).

She gives one sleeve a tug and is drawn from her musings. Satisfied, the queen tugs on her riding slippers and heads towards the stairs to find her daughter.

After breakfast, they almost hurry to the stables, identical in their eagerness. Merida handles the horses with dexterity, and Elinor finds herself proud at this display of grace. She knows now that success and happiness can stem from many pursuits, and perhaps she will allow her daughter to lighten up on the music lessons for a little while at least.

The queen has almost forgotten how it feels to sit atop a horse, the wind barely keeping up with them. As she follows Merida along a well-trod path, hair whipping behind them both, a thrill runs through her whole body that has nothing to do with the chilly morning air.

With Merida, riding is always experience. From the old birthday calamity, where she escaped with her small girl to avoid Mor'du, to these spontaneous ventures through the glen; the rush of it all never fails to astonish Elinor.

And as they ride, the queen thinks of how the dark woods seem less frightening, now that she knows their secrets a little better.

The results of the witch's spell have been more transformative than anyone possibly could have imagined. At the very least, riding together allows her daughter to share her favorite areas, and the queen can hardly believe that she'd ignored the landscape for so long. She realizes that beyond the idyllic scenery, right under her nose has her own flesh and blood taken a beauty of her own. Before the recent events, how often had she taken the time to really know her daughter? How had she never noticed how stunning her hair was, as red as the rising sun, as wild as her own spirit?

The queen in her knows that she has done her best to prepare her young princess; the mother in her is not so sure that she has performed as adequately.

She is grateful that they have the time, now, to continue changing together.

…


End file.
